


Beginnings and Ends

by sangi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, zutara100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-01
Updated: 2006-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangi/pseuds/sangi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You will make a fine Fire Lord,” she whispers into his ear, softly, reassuringly. - A compilation of drabbles and short pieces posted in 2006-2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings and Ends

**Author's Note:**

> A compilation of drabbles and short pieces posted in 2006-2007 for the Zutara100 Challenge on Livejournal. Not edited, and some of my earliest work.

1\. beginnings

 

Her clothes were on the ground and she was washing herself; he was watching her in the bushes. His eyes were wide as he watched her hands travel her body.

 

She knew he was in the bushes and watching her; he knew she knew. But moments later, when he groaned a bit, she was bending the water into ice and freezing him to the tree. She walked up to him and Zuko’s eyes widened at the sight of a naked woman. Katara stopped and her hot, steamy breath tickled his neck.

 

She kissed him and his mind went completely blank.

 

* * *

 

 

2\. ends

 

The Fire Lord is old and his hands are frail, but his son holds them tight. When Ozai passes on, Zuko does not shed tears, but stands up calmly and walks back to his quarters. Inside he finds his sleeping wife and leaves a lingering kiss on her forehead before sitting down at the table.

Behind him Katara stirs.

 

He feels soft hands on his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. He becomes jelly in her arms and she grins, moving her arms down to his waist.

 

“You will make a fine Fire Lord,” she whispers into his ear, softly, reassuringly.

 

* * *

 

 

3\. poverty

 

Zuko, in his whole life, has seen poverty. He has felt dirty, defiled, and horribly poor before. Our prince has fought battles, braved storms, and has stood up for his beliefs.

 

Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation is a brave man. He does whatever he must to fulfill the mission, and even then, he tries to do more.

 

Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation is very strong, very undoubtful. He now keeps all of his emotions in check and balances them accordingly.

 

But the first time he calls her peasant, he feels like scum (and he knows he is, too).

 

* * *

 

 

4\. wealth

 

Her ballroom dress is long and brushes the ground delicately. When Katara first walks into the room, he is amazed. The colors compliment her once-tan skin (now slightly paler than before), and her eyes (bright blue and unbelieving).

 

The second that she walks through the door into the ballroom, he knows –knows- that it is her. No matter that Zuko has commanded that this be a masquerade ball, he just knows that this is her; that this is Katara. And this makes him very happy (elated, on high).

 

‘She,’ he says to himself, ‘is worth the wealth of a thousand princes.’

 

* * *

 

 

5\. two of a kind

 

When they met along the riverside, he had not meant to startle her, but he did. When she had attacked him with her bending powers, she had not meant to hurt him, but she did. And when they both had started on their way, they both definitely had not meant to trip and fall into each other, but they did.

 

And when he held her up in his strong arms, their eyes met. He did mean to kiss her. Two peas in a pod; two.

 

In the river, they melted together; they were two of a kind – and they knew it.

 

* * *

 

 

6\. past

 

When she was very little, her mother had used to tell her stories about Princess Shomi and Prince Harbu. Katara remembers these stories about the imaginary lives of the Earth Kingdom Prince and the Water Kingdom Princess.

 

Everyone thought that they would end up married happily ever after, but after Princess Shomi had professed her love for Prince Harbu to her father, she was denounced the right to marry him and lost all of her inheritance. Both her and the prince killed themselves.

 

Katara remembers this when she tells her father of the man she loves (golden eyes, so bright).

 

* * *

 

 

7\. present

 

Her name was Shiiko, but everyone called her Shiik. She had long, brown hair (deep chestnut), and one golden eye. The other eye was cerulean blue. Shiiko didn’t fit in with the other children at the Royal Academy.

 

She made good marks, and could firebend perfectly fine (along with hand-to-hand combat), but she had no friends.

 

When Shiik runs home to her mother every day after school, she realizes that she is the only friend she needs. She voices this thought.

 

Her mother laughs, blue eyes comforting. Her father smiles, golden eyes alight with laughter. Shiiko’s eyes were a blend.

 

* * *

 

 

8\. future

 

Sometimes, Zuko wakes up early in the mornings. Most of the time he wakes up with his daughter in-between him and his wife, somehow worming there during the night.

 

This day is different.

 

Today is his coronation. He will become the next Fire Lord, and all of the Fire Nation will want to bow to him, believing that he will be just as cruel and unforgiving as his father.

 

His family gives him a hug before he leaves, mussing up his clothes a bit. Like when your mother kisses your boo-boo, it made it all better. He smiles; she laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

9\. first

 

When he is woken in the middle of the night by his wife shaking him, he is drowsy. But when she whispers the magic words, “It is time,” he is awake.

 

He grabs the midwife and shoves her into the room.

 

“Zuko? Come here,” she says, breath labored.

 

He holds her hands in his.

 

“Would you like to go heat up some water for me?”

 

So he does.

 

He comes back later, though, to hear the cries of a wailing baby in the arms of its mother.

 

It is a girl.

 

He is not disappointed. She is only the first.

 

* * *

 

 

10\. last

 

Her grandmother is very old and brittle, and she is dying. Katara, Zuko, and her daughter venture to the Southern Water Tribe to say goodbye.

 

Her grandmother is at the brink. She realized that she had never really seen her Gran-Gran before; she had never really known her. Her eyes water at the thought of knowing this was the first time.

 

The last time.

 

When she comes out of the tent with a sad face and resolution, closure, in her eyes, Zuko leads her away. Later, sitting together by the sunset, Katara whispers softly into the scattering wind.

 

"Goodbye, Gran Gran."

 

* * *

 

 

11\. honor

 

When the fight is over and she is on the ground panting with short breaths, he isn’t surprised. He knew that with just physical strength, he could defeat her. His muscles were much stronger than hers from years of training.

 

He switches his long sword from hand to hand, finally bringing the tip down to rest at her throat.

 

Katara’s eyes flashed. “Do it,” she challenged him, “kill me. Take my blood like your nation did my mother’s!”

 

The prince pulls his sword back away from her throat. “No.”

 

“Why?” Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes.

 

“I have honor.”

 

* * *

 

 

12\. tears

 

Katara was a kind woman. The servants were not afraid of her, and young children flocked to her matronly nature. She smiled a lot; the kind of smiles that make you want to smile back.

 

Zuko was a very mean man on the outside. People cringed in fear when they heard his name. The Prince didn’t smile very much, and was definitely not the kind of guy that lets you cry on his shoulder.

 

Unless, of course, you are his wife.

 

“It was so sad,” she sniffed, “and Romeo killed himself because he thought Juliet was dead, and then Juliet wakes up to find him dead, and she ends up killing herself!”

 

Zuko rolls his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

13\. laughter

 

The campfire is warm and the air is cold and around them there is a shield of fate. There is tension in the air. A smirk appears on Toph’s face and she smiles.

 

“I’m turning in. Goodnight, guys.” She winked once. Katara blushed and looked away.

 

Zuko looked at her curiously. “What was that about?” He asked her.

 

She shook her head at him and opened her beryl eyes. “Zuko?” she asked shyly.

 

“What?” Was his gruff reply.

 

“Nevermind.” She is blushing and looking at the ground, but Zuko is also unsure and looks away.

 

Toph laughs in the distance.

 

* * *

 

 

14\. hope

 

Appa is big and strong and he flies very high in the air. Up in the chilly atmosphere, Katara is cold. Her body shivers involuntarily. ‘I was not meant to live in such a cold place,’ she thinks.

 

But next to her she feels warmth and the touch of a firebender and she smiles at the Fire Prince as he regards her warily. She snuggles under his arm and feels a warm feeling deep in her chest.

 

Bubbling inside is a light ball of warmth and it will always be there to help her hold on - hope.

 

She knew it.

 

* * *

 

 

15\. fear

 

Katara wakes to the sound of Zuko shifting back and forth, back and forth in his sleeping mat. She softly walks over to him and looks at his closed eyes and softly angelic face. Her fingers outline his jaw before moving away.

 

She shakes the prince’s body until he wakes up, bewildered. Katara’s mouth smiles and she takes his hand in his and tells him calmly that he had a nightmare.

 

He lies back on the blankets and sighs into the darkness. She keeps hold of Zuko’s large hand.

 

She knows that he will tell her when we wants to.

 

* * *

 

 

17\. lust

 

The cold wind swirls around them; her face stings with tears of anger and frustration. Neither will win this battle – that the Oasis would ever be this inclement could only be proof of that.

 

But she cannot hope to lose because it will mean more than just a loss.

 

~

 

When he looks at her he can feel the touch of her against his skin and the sweet memories of nights on end. But then he couldn’t help himself enough and then…

 

He looks into her eyes. It takes him a moment to recognize the fact that she is alive, she is here, and she only wants him.

 

* * *

 

 

18\. truth

 

He wakes up in the morning to find her next to him and time ticks by and time ticks by. It takes forever for her to wake up but when she eventually does he gives her a chaste kiss.

 

She snuggles into his embrace – they are husband and wife and that must mean something – and asks him how he is doing.

 

In turn he asks her where she was last night. She looks away guiltily and tells him of her visit to Jet in the dungeons. He asks her what happened and she says nothing.

 

He can tell in her eyes that she is saying the truth.

 

* * *

 

 

20\. clean

 

The dishes are put away now, and the young children all clamber about their mother for a story. Katara and Zuko watch from across the room as the lady that they are staying with agrees to a story. ‘Just one.’

 

“Would you mind cleaning off the rest of the table, dears?” She asks; they each dumbly nod their head, watching as she goes into the other room with her children (the presence of a father figure lingers).

 

They clean the table off. _Blue eyes meet gold ones, and she smiles hesitantly (her record is clean but he isn’t so trustworthy)._

 

* * *

 

 

21\. dirty

 

“It’s okay,” he soothes her shivering form in the dark twilight, covering her small body protectively with his. She sobs into his chest, her bloodstained hands holding onto him so tightly, never wanting to let go.

 

Next to them, on the ground, is the prone figure of a Water Tribe warrior, his face painted, his hand curled around his boomerang. His eyes are closed, as if in a peaceful slumber.

 

But Zuko knows that it is his blood that stains her fingers, the blood that brings about the tears of a nation. And for that he hates Sokka (the brother).

 

* * *

 

 

22\. hands

 

It’s freezing outside and they both know it, huddling around the small campfire. She rubs her hands together but looks longingly at him. Zuko pretends he doesn’t see the look, and keeps his hands over the fire.

 

Katara shivers noticeably and slowly the walls around Zuko crumble and he willingly takes her small hands in his larger ones, upping his body heat just enough to warm her.

 

Her eyes open and she smiles. His hands rub against hers softly, feeling the smooth skin and the soft calluses of a working woman, and he smiles back. _There is peace in love._

 

* * *

 

 

23\. hair

 

His hair is short now, his topknot gone, just a memory of a past that lingers in the moonlight but was never really there. His hair is short now, ruffled all the time as if he had just woken up, but she loves it. She absolutely loves it.

 

And whenever she gets the chance, she volunteers to wash his hair for him.

 

The first time she asked; no. The second time; no. The third time; ew. The fourth time; maybe tomorrow. The fifth time; maybe later.

 

The sixth time; yes.

 

His hair is short now, but it is also shiny.

 

* * *

 

 

24\. eyes

 

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, they say. Beautiful is just lovely, they say, but I’d rather not take the chance.

 

Of course Zuko has never listened to them and he never really planned to. One of his eyes was practically gone anyways, but something about the way she moved, something about her was of a healing quality. She was so wonderfully skilled at everything that she had ever tried, and just maybe if, maybe if.

 

Her hands are smooth and Katara heals the world and everyone can see again, he says, and they are forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

25\. skin

 

Her skin is pale (now more than before) and worn, and there are scars scattered all over it. As he kisses each one, she will tell him a different story.

 

“That one was from when I was young, and me and Sokka slipped into the puddle,”

 

or maybe

 

“That one was from just last year when I was fighting with your sister,”

 

and he would kiss it away, kiss the scars of her past and her future, leaving her an unblemished flower.

 

(or maybe

 

“That one was from just last month, when I tripped while walking with shears,” or such)

 

* * *

 

 

26\. blood

 

Her eyes are blue and his are gold, but both were beautiful, says he. They were, such a long time ago, so rare to see.

 

But now, on any occasion or function at the palace, a number of young children sporting blue and gold eyes (there is even a girl who has both one blue eye and one gold eye) are running about, causing havoc. Here and there they scatter, _once upon a time_.

 

And it’s all because of their mother and father, of the people before them, and all because of the blue blood that flows through their veins.

 

* * *

 

 

27\. mask

 

The mask that covers them both isn’t really a mask of any literal means, but more of a mask that covers their true feelings, showing no frowns and no smiles, showing no happiness but no anger, leaving nothing but a stoic face staring down the tiger.

 

Katara wishes sometimes that she could just throw it all away to smile in public, to kiss where people could watch.

 

Zuko wishes sometimes that he could just throw it all away to throw a fireball for no reason, to burn inside.

 

They wish that once upon a time they could have been truthful.

 

* * *

 

 

28\. naked

 

Their bodies are together and the bare, naked chests rise with a quick _up and down and in and out_ and it all comes crashing down like waves upon the shares of a far off land.

 

The darker skin of a tainted waterbender and the pale skin of a pampered pure firebender prince blend and at one time they become a kind of lovely exhibit, the colors becoming more than one of a kind. A kind of life that only exists in the confines of true love.

 

_Me and you, tonight?_

_We will blend together_

_Like stars into the sky._

 

* * *

 

 

29\. clothing

 

This clothing was burning him alive, inside and out, with its red, red cotton. It itched, it scratched, it annoyed. It was there but it wasn’t at the same time, and he just couldn’t take that anymore. He wanted it off, he wanted it gone.

 

His scratching and fidgeting stops when cold, cool, soft, wonderful hands come down on his back, the healing of water soothing his wounds, the inside of his heart slowly calming and once again he can just breathe.

 

_Katara…_

 

* * *

 

 

30\. spirits

 

Sometimes, at night in the tribe of her people, Katara invites Zuko to dance. This dance is an ancient dance that only goes with the melodic and rhythmic and sometimes erratic beating of primitive drums.

 

And sometimes, at night in the tribe of her people, Katara dances better than Zuko.

 

And sometimes, at night in the tribe of her people, Zuko dances better than Katara.

 

And then there are the sometimes when the spirits take over and nobody can really remember anything. And when asked about it, they say it was a tie.

 

Sometimes you can see the spirits watching.

 

* * *

 

 

31\. jewelry

 

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaims, looking in delight at the necklace that lays before her. It is made of pure gold, and in the middle of the gold holding, there is a rather large sapphire, with a rather large ruby next to it.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, “It was my mother’s.”

 

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’, and gently, delicately she lifts out the necklace and puts it on her graceful neck. Katara looks into the mirror and sees a young girl with her mother’s jewelry.

 

Zuko looks into the mirror and sees a woman - his wife, the leader beside him. And he thinks it’s ironic, as if his mother knew that he would fall in love with a waterbender. 

 

* * *

 

 

32\. destiny

 

The battlefield in front of him is a complete waste, all of the people dead Fire Nation people, the people of his birth land. He idly wonders if this is real but then he smells the coppery scent of blood and knows better than to be childish.

 

He can see Katara in front of him, sitting there in the blood of a million lives, in the puddle of hot red liquid dripping slowly into the earth.

 

Zuko knows that Katara is sad and there may be no way to comfort her, but he has to try. _He cannot fail just once more_.

 

“Maybe,” Zuko says, hand resting gently on her shoulder, “it is fate.”

 

* * *

 

 

33\. comfort

 

When it rains for you, it rains. When it rains for a fire nation boy, it rains heavily. When it rains for a fire nation prince, it pours. When it rains for Zuko, it’s a monsoon.

 

But that isn’t always the way he thinks of it – normally it is a punishment for some crime of his; it is karma.

 

Yet sometimes he likes to think it’s because there is someone looking out for him, that someone out there really cares enough to douse the heat of his anger…

 

Maybe out there, someone really is looking out for him. _Katara dearest…_

 

* * *

 

 

34\. attack

 

Katara grunted as her back hit a tree and as Zuko stalked up to her, in the midst of a battle, her eyes widened as she flattened against the tree. His face stopped maybe an inch from hers, and his voice was not unkind.  
  
“You know that if I don’t take you down, someone else will?”  
  
She nods at his words, and readies herself for battle again, but suddenly they are surrounded by the third party and Zuko growls, low in his throat. He can hear them shouting in the distance that they have found the two renegades.  
  
“Go, Katara.”

She snorts. “You wish. Don’t worry, I’ve got this side.”

 

* * *

 

 

35\. hug

 

When she reached the campsite again, she almost crushed the Avatar in a large hug. “I was so worried,” she went on and on as her brother and Toph stared on, “I didn’t think you were going to get out alright.” She finished lamely, but her head swerved as she felt a smoldering presence in the woods.  
  
And later that night, when she goes out to take a bath, she knows that he’s right there behind her. Katara turns around and raises one eyebrow as he smirks predatorily. “I don’t get a hug for being safe?”  
  
Katara rolled her eyes at Zuko. “See,” she almost purred, “I knew you would be absolutely,” her eyes traveled over him, “fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

36\. kiss

 

“I have to leave you guys soon,” Zuko says. She smiles lightly at him, but he could feel the sadness in her gaze. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
  
He walks away (He was never good at goodbyes anyway, see, and so what's the point of trying?) but a voice stops him cold in his tracks.  
  
“What, no goodbye kiss?”  
  
He turns around and gazes at her warily.  
  
“Why, you want one?”

 “Well,” she started, but Zuko was already moving towards her, “I would just pine away for you-“ The rest of her words were cut off as he captured her lips with his.

 “That’s all?” She asked a moment later, voice a little raspy. He raised one eyebrow and moved back in.

 

* * *

 

 

37\. possession

 

“What's that key to?” He asked her, gesturing to a small golden key held close in her hand.

 

“My house.” She said.

_My heart._

 

“And if you take it, I will slap you.” She added as he reached for it.

_Take it anyways._

 

He gave her a quick, searching glance before reaching out and taking the key, fingering it with the utmost care. His face softens momentarily before it hardens again, and he slips the key into the pocket. He nods to her, and she watches as he walks back to the village. Katara knows he’s smiling and she laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

38\. obsession

 

He was back only one week later, and he was very frustrated. She could tell by the way that he moved, the way that he breathed and the fact that when she tried to talk about it his eyes clouded over.  
  
On one visit between them, he just burst out. “I just can’t understand it, Katara! I don’t get the strangeness, the complete absurdness of it all! It’s almost as if I’m…” his voice trails off, but she knows what the rest of the sentence was. She had heard it many times before.  
  
 _It’s almost as if I’m obsessed._  
  
She patted his back and kissed his head and told him wishfully that it would all be okay.

 

* * *

 

 

39\. conceal

 

i. _ba sing se_

“Who are you?” She looks at him, smiling lightly, and there’s something in the way she moves, pressing her body much too close to his. Katara’s looking expectantly up to him, right where to his eyes would normally be if he hadn’t been wearing a mask. “So?” She prompts again, letting him twirl her out on the dance floor.

 

Zuko brings her back in, dipping her down. Quietly: “It’s a masquerade ball – who are _you?_ ”

 

ii. _north pole_

This time, his mask is red. It’s more detailed than the green one before, depicting the ornate face of a dragon, and it stands out in the crowd of blue people with blue clothing (and consequently, blue masks). Katara catches his attention, her laughter drifting, floating, in the distance.

 

The prince looks over to see dancing with none other than the Avatar. Her brother is close by, watching them while sitting with some Earth Kingdom girl.

 

The red mask glints dangerously in the lanterns as he moves delicately through the crowd, making his way towards a destination –

 

“May I cut in?” he asks, smiling down at young Aang and his exquisite dancing partner. Katara looks up, surprised, and smiles regretfully at Aang before turning to him.

 

She softly places her hands on his arms. “Of course.”

 

iii. _fire nation_

They dance differently this time. _His eyes are cold and hers are warm - they meet for a moment, just a moment._

 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” She asks, as he quickly dodges a knife thrown at him. The waterbender smirks before freezing the water on the floor, making him slip. As he falls, he sweeps her feet out from under her and they both land panting on the floor.

 

Zuko looks at Katara over his stomach, the blue mask somehow familiar to her. “No, I don’t believe so.”

 

* * *

 

 

40\. reveal

 

It was raining on the night of the masquerade ball. Katara was outside the party, but the sounds of giggling ladies and the lightly playing music still reached her ears. She leaned against the railing of the balcony and looked out on the gardens. She sighed as she took her mask off her face and laid it down, putting her head on one hand.  
 

“Not having much fun?” She turned around to see the blue-masked man behind her. She couldn’t help but feel that the voice was familiar, but masks like that were in vogue these days, ever since the Blue Spirit had worn one. Now all young men of the courts wore them, though the war was far from in session any longer and peace rested upon the nations’ shoulders, they couldn’t help but bring up memories.  
 

Cerulean eyes flashed predatorily as the man walked closer and leaned on the balcony railing beside the waterbender. She decided to confide in the anonymous man. _What the hell. Like it matters._ She sighed lightly. “No, not much fun at all.”  
 

The corner of the mouth that she could see through the small hole in the mask quirked up a bit and she felt herself puff up at the thought of being made fun of by someone that judged without knowing. “Friends ditch you?” She felt herself automatically deflate at the sorrowful, but also true, words.  
 

“Yeah, pretty much.” _That and I pretty much hate dancing with these idiots, and the fact that I’m pretty much all by myself._  
 

“Want to dance?” She looked positively shocked at those words.  
 

“There isn’t any music out here,” was her automatic response. The man wearing the mask laughed, and she suddenly felt very alone.  
 

He held out a hand to her, and she took it. He pulled Katara close to him, and began the steps of a complicated dance, and her eyes narrowed. Did he think that she couldn’t keep up with him? She went faster than him and reversed their positions, acting unladylike and taking the lead.

 

Eyes flickered as he wondered if she was upset, but the way she held herself, proud yet smug, told him more than the way she danced. Her movements were precise and practiced, clean-cut and fresh. They weren’t the flourished movements of the ladies back home who tried to dance as elegantly and impressively as they possibly could, but it was refreshing to dance with someone who honestly just danced like they wanted to.  
 

Katara watched as she could see the dark eyes, the color not distinguishable in the darkness of the night and the heat of the moment, taking her in. The man’s feet moved stealthily, as if he was a panther stalking a prey, and she almost giggled at the thought of his tail sashaying through the high grass and pouncing on a mouse. The dance was ending and the music sped up, and so did their combined movements. The music was far away, now, only in the flux of the ocean in her mind, the tide pulling in and out.  
 

It ended with her head almost touching the floor, and him holding her confidently against his chest. They were both breathing heavily, and she half-expected him to kiss her. But it didn’t happen, and she felt mild disappointment.  
 

In a fit of almost-anger, she took the mask of his face and held it to her chest. In the night, all she could see were two glittering golden eyes and a cocked eyebrow. He bowed to her, and before she could say anything, he was gone.

 

_But who was he?_

 

* * *

 

 

42\. blanket

 

It was night, way after either of them should still be awake talking to each other when the people back at her camp may wake up and notice she wasn’t there, but at the time, neither of them cared that much about that fact.  
  
So, after she falls asleep under the bright, shining stars, he merely takes her back to her camp and tucks her in, under the warm blankets. He can see that she’s dreaming, because she’s smiling lightly and he wonders what about.  
  
Zuko feels a presence and looks up to see the earth-bender girl looking at him. He shifts slightly, preparing for a fight, but she just raises her eyebrows and shrugs.  
  
He pulls the blanket up to Katara’s chin and leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

43\. dreams

 

“I dreamt about you last night,” she comments as she lays her head down on Zuko’s chest. He grunts lightly.  
  
She explained further. “The war was over and everything was wonderful and you were Fire Lord, but you had mercy, Zuko, and you were the best ruler ever because you had a heart.”  
  
He looks down at her and his face unintentionally softened. She smiled lightly before looking back up at the clouds above them. “What did you dream of last night, Zuko?”  
  
“Strangely enough, Azula was a hare. As in a rabbit. With big ears.” He said seriously and Katara giggled at the mental image.  
  
“Honestly?” she asked him.

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

44\. reality

 

"So you came," he says, hood hiding the top half of his face. She can see a flash of gold.

 

"Of course. You said you wanted to help and,” the waterbender stops to laugh, one tinged with bittersweet irony, “I believed you."

 

Zuko hands her a scroll; “The battle plans are in here.” He nods his head, and hesitantly begins to move away from the cautious woman in front of him. But before he can turn around fully, she impulsively grabs hold of his hood and pushes it back, one hand delicately coming to rest over his scar; she sees the shock in his mouth and the pain in his eyes, and the waterbender sighs, a deep exhale of breath into the air.

 

“What if… we weren’t on separate sides of the war?” Katara asks, her voice softly carrying through the courtyard: silence is her solemn response.

 

After a long moment, he pulls her hands off of him, the corners of his mouth bemusedly turned up, tart and sweet all at once. He pulls his hood back over his face, leaving her hands clinging to the sides of her robes. The prince backs away.

 

Then, slowly, regretfully: “But we are.”

 

~

 

“The war is over now,” Katara says, and it’s soft and light and everything it should be, coming from her.

 

“We’re on the same side, now.” - but there’s a touch of sarcasm in her sweet voice.

 

There’s a long pause; in the dim light of the courtyard his face is empty, blank. “Yes,” he says slowly, savoring the words, “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

19\. lies

 

_I have everything I wanted, but it’s not at all how I thought it would be._

 

“You’re here for Aang, aren’t you?” she asks, and it isn’t angry or passion-filled or dry with light humor: it’s none of the above. It’s weary of the world, jaded, as if she knows there’s more to this than she can see. When Katara comes into the light, her smile is foreboding and self-mocking.

 

Zuko frowns, and his one good eyebrow rises delicately into the crease of his forehead. “Of course I am. What else what I be here for?” The Avatar? Azula asks. He is dead… right? A cruel smile adorns her face.

 

The boy – man - sneers at the waterbender, and she’s no longer smiling.

 

He’s going to come at her soon, she knows, and it’s the same old tune.

 

“What if…” Katara begins, looking away from the prince, “I wasn’t here when you came calling?” This can’t possibly be the same fiery woman that he had once fought with in the North Pole, or had taken captive, tied against a tree. This was someone else entirely.

 

His brows furrow down and his eye narrows. The prince (returned honor, it mocks him, mocks him gently) puts his body – force of habit, he’ll say, but it’s not true – into a position solely for firebending.

 

The girl sighs, and readies herself for battle. He comes at her only moments later, and they begin.

 

* * *

 

 

45\. letters

 

“You alright, Zuko?” Iroh asks his nephew, taking a sip of tea.

 

“Not really.” The man sits down at a desk and pulls out a parchment, carefully etching the words into the paper, delicately, with a quill. Zuko’s frowning – just a bit.

 

_Katara,_

_Do you know anything about babies?_

_-Fire Lord Zuko, sovereign of the Fire Nation, Lord to All_

 

_Dear Zuko,_

_Why, yes, it is nice to hear from you again! We’re fine, so nice of you to ask. Sokka? Oh, you know Sokka – him and Suki are going on strong. We’re all just waiting for him to pop the question! Aang is still on his journey around the world. And I’m just fine myself, thank you for asking._

_May I inquire as to whose babies they are?_

_-Katara_

 

_Katara,_

_They aren’t mine, or anything. Peasant. They aren’t even human. A couple of the little turtle ducks fell ill and I can’t get them to eat anything, and their mothers died not too long ago. Ever since, I’ve been taking care of them, but now I they won’t keep down any food._

_Do you have any suggestions?_

_-Fire Lord Zuko, sovereign of the Fire Nation, Lord to All_

 

_Dear Zuko,_

_I’m not really sure. Do you know what species of turtle duck they are? Maybe you aren’t feeding them the right food. If you could tell me more about them and their eating habits, maybe I could help. What I’m not sure of is why you’d ask me. There are plenty of experts at the Fire Nation Palace – don’t shake your head at me! I know there are._

_Maybe you can try asking one of them._

_-Katara_

 

_Katara,_

_I don’t know anything about turtle ducks – there’s more than one species? I took your advice and asked some of the animal experts. The turtle ducks are eating food now, but I’m not really sure what came over them before. They all seem just fine now… and they haven’t eaten since their mothers died in the ‘bridge accident’ a few weeks ago._

_-Fire Lord Zuko, sovereign of the Fire Nation, Lord to All_

 

_Dear, sad, misunderstanding Zuko,_

_Did you ever think that they just missed their mothers?_

_-Katara_

 

Zuko stares at the paper for a moment, brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth sloping downwards.

_I hadn’t really thought of that,_ he admits to himself, leaning comfortably back in his large chair.

 

Iroh’s suspicious voice drifts to his ears from the background. “What are you up to, Zuko?”

 

The Fire Lord, sovereign of the Fire Nation, Lord to All, smirks. “Just a little professional correspondence.”

 

* * *

 

 

46\. silence

 

It was one week after the Avatar died, one week after the bloody bodies had been washed from the rainwater and five days from the mass burnings that consumed their patriot bodies.  
  
Katara stood in front of the Avatar’s grave and knew, she just knew, that Azula would go to hell and that Sokka would be happy marrying Suki because somehow Aang wanted her to know the future, he wanted to know that she could once again move on and be joyful.  
  
Zuko is standing behind her, because his arms are wrapped around her waist, and he whispers something in her ear and slips a ring onto her finger. She nods her head and turns around and nestles in his arms, and all stays silent except for the wind.

 

* * *

 

 

48\. dance

 

Sometimes she dances.

 

Her pliable body bends as she moves across the floor and turns gracefully through the complicated dance steps, as if reciting a poem from memory or playing a piece on the piano, she has already learned the moves to this dance but it seems new to her all over again. Tiny and nimble feet caress the polished marble gently, lovingly, petting a cat on the head, brushing against the wings of a butterfly. Her lips open in a soft motion, sighing in relief, maybe, breathing in the air of a million scents.

 

The wind blows through the open windows and she doesn’t shiver, she doesn’t flinch, but only moves as if the wind is her guide to the many complications of a choreography that is known not by the mind but only by the deepest and lesser known confines of the heart, a jungle of undiscovered treasure. Hands are held in position, perfect and confident, flitting around like the swishing tail of a sashaying cat, fluttering like the delicate skin of a fish’s gills. Iridescent lights flicker through the shutters on a few windows, illuminating her closed eyes and her burnished, polished hair – the perfect look for someone so concentrated on something.

 

A physical rhythmic expression is what they call dance, but to her it is an art, something with the constant need of worrying and perfecting, a golden trophy lying in wait for her at the end of the day. Her head swirls as if knowing a different part of the dance than her body, but it seems to mesh well enough, like a patched quilt that somehow has a homey feel and you sleep with it only because it reminds you of things you could never be. The marble floor gleams unnecessarily as the world spins around one single point. She idly wonders if this is what it’s like to live freely, and the lights flicker as if they know.

 

The hairs on her arms stand on end, and the back of her neck seems chilled and dewy because she knows that the beat of this long rhythm, the end of a world of movement, is coming to an end, that soon the soft music playing in her mind will stop and she will be exactly as she was at the beginning, standing still and straight, like a plank of wood, like a petrified deer, watching blankly into space with the arrogant confidence one can only find when they are skilled with much more than competence.

 

Maybe if, she wonders, she could dance another song? There was time before dinner, to be sure, and the music would always start up again as soon as her feet moved in a pattern…

But her willowy thoughts were disrupted by the rumble-like sound of soft clapping, coming from the open doorway. Katara turned her head slowly toward the looming shadow of a leanly muscled young man. Zuko smiled lightly and a surprised Katara smiled hesitantly back. How long had he been watching her?

 

“That was wonderful,” he acknowledged. “I had no idea that you knew how to dance.” His eyes looked like they were wondering about something, wondering about the world turning and a million lights going out.

 

She nods her head lightly, chastely, as he walks toward her. “Dinner will be soon,” he says, the light in his eyes gone and the wondering has gone off through the meadows. His face is stoic again, hard and professional. He holds his hand out to her and, as if reaching out to put your fingers over the delicate flame of a candle, she takes it.

 

* * *

 

 

50\. destroy

 

What do you do when you can’t do anymore?

 

Do you sit there with your feeble mind, with your vanishing life, and do you breathe like a flower and sit with the patience of a thousand wise men?

 

She wonders this because she is so tired of wondering when she will forget, when will she not remember. But at the same time Katara wants to always remember the look on his face when her prince fell. _Destroy it._

 

Maybe when she wakes up she can see his face again, and maybe when she goes to sleep she can just forget.

 

* * *

 

 

54\. friends

 

She can remember a time when they would lay together on sunny days and look up at the sky, and she can remember times when they ate dinner over a campfire and argued about who has to clean up.

 

There were times when she was in the water, swimming, when suddenly someone could catapult in and she could feel his presence, his mien, and she knew that it had to be him and no one else.

 

She couldn’t really describe the relationship they had as friendship, but she wouldn’t really call it anything else, so that would have to do.

 

* * *

 

 

55\. enemies

 

She likes to pretend that they never knew each other and that they never talked as if they knew each other as more than the person who ran the teashop and the water-bender with the blue eyes.

 

But the war is over now, and there isn’t really time for that kind of reminiscing.

 

Katara can feel his presence without looking at him, but she still pretends he isn’t there, because they are on opposite sides now. Sitting at a conference table across from a golden-eyed Fire Lord, she can feel a foot slowly travel up her leg and she shudders.

 

* * *

 

 

56\. teammates

 

“You have, mister,” she poked him in the chest warningly, “completely thrown off my fighting style.”

 

Zuko’s face was confused as he looked down at an irate Katara. “What’s on your mind?” He asked noncommittally, almost automatically, and she just puffed up even more.  
  
“Ever since we became teammates, you have completely warped my fighting to some psuedo-firebending technique that I don’t like.” She finished her tantrum standing akimbo and her nostrils flaming.  
  
He smirked as he looked over her rigid, angry body. “You think we’re teammates?”

Katara deflated but just as soon she was angry again. “What does that have to do with anything? I was talking about something completely different, and you just pick up on that.”  
  
He just rolled his eyes and went back to stirring the pot.

 

* * *

 

 

60\. guilt

 

“Is it over?” Her soft voice echoed throughout the clearing and it hung there for a moment, everything suspended, and then it all came crashing down as she saw the Avatar’s lifeless body on the battlefield and the hundreds of people laying, almost as if they were asleep except for the burns or cut marks.

 

She is slowly taken away by arms around her shoulders and she can feel the overpowering presence of the Fire Prince, now Lord, as he pulls her chin up and kisses her lightly. And the rain starts to fall and she can feel the blood wash away but it’s still there, really, you just can’t see it.

 

With Zuko standing behind her, Katara looks down at the immobile body of the last airbender and just knows she should have down something.

 

* * *

 

 

63\. sound

 

There are few places in the world that Zuko has not been. This is one of them. He has never been to The Library, he has never been to the island of Shi-Xhiang, and he has never been to the island in the cove of Belula Bay.

 

The Prince has never been to an abandoned Air Temple before, either. When he walks outside, he can feel them watching him, he can feel them – there are there.

 

Sometimes he hears the sound of boys running through the hallways, the sound of laughter and joy. But when he turns around there is no one there, no sign of anyone running through these hallways in a century. The floor of this part of the Temple is marble, but somehow it is always pleasantly warm in the hallways (a breeze ruffles the curtains in the distance and they whisper like velvet).

 

The sound of love and laughter, and the quiet sound of the pieces of chess set scraping softly against the board. He hears them all day and night, morning to morning. He tells Katara but she just laughs it off with a smile and says its the charm of the place – but is it really?

 

_One, two, three. Ready or not, here I come!_

 

The aspen trees quake in the distance (shiver, shiver, you shiver, shiver) and it is cold. A whisper, a thought.

 

_Haha! I found you!_

He knows that it must be his mind or something – this could not possibly be real.

 

Katara knows that he is upset and goes out of her way to make him feel at ease during their stay – time along, or the dancing to his favorite waltz (their song, their only song). He hears it day and night, morning to morning. But since it is better than the whispers in the crevice of his mind, he lets it be (right foot step, left foot criss-cross…).

 

There is a day, the day before they leave for good and Zuko is rid of his silent followers. Katara smiles in the morning and leads him away from their rooms (and the _very_ nice bed). She takes him to a large balcony overlooking the horizon, and points out the sun rising from behind the clouds. It turns the sky purple and blue and green – beautiful. He kisses his lady quietly and gently, letting her lean her head on his shoulder.

 

From behind him he hears the footsteps of a cautious, hesitant child and both he and Katara turn around; but as he expected, no one is there.

 

* * *

 

 

68\. elements

 

She is not like her source of energy, the moon, he thinks quietly. She is more like a whisper of the wind, a seductive smile and whisking away into the night. Moonlight is soft and perfect and gentle and she’s hard and fierce and triumphant, but she doesn’t know any better.

 

She’s only Katara.

 

She’s the voice on the wind that tells you to turn to the left, to the right, to breathe in and breathe out (onetwothree) in the windy maze of life. She’s the beacon that he sees and goes toward, that he’s attracted to like a bug attracted to the bright fluorescent lamps of the Earth Nation.

 

But in the end, she’s only Katara.

 

And there’s nothing he can do to make her water-like, to make her pliable yet supple and beautiful yet deadly, because she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t do what she’s told and she wouldn’t listen anyways if you tried.

 

(breathein, breatheout, onetwothree)

 

He looks at her ashen face, at her cold hands of death clamped around a bouquet of fancy flowers (he knows that she didn’t want a Fire Nation funeral but he just couldn’t _let go_ ) and she’s gone, in the ground, and he’s rising up from his seat to feel the air and burn like fire and feel like earth, drink in the water and feel the air fresh on his face, in a land without prejudice (though not without a cost).

 

And maybe, just maybe, he can hear her one last time.

 

* * *

 

 

69\. seasons

 

It’s summertime and the sky is glowing with fire, the fire of the fire people, the fire of a thousand deaths and the sacrifice of all men.

 

It’s autumn and the world is spinning like the leaves, the leaves of the earth people, the earth of a thousand kisses and the sacrifice of a lonely mother.

 

It’s winter and the air is windy, the wind of the air people, the wind of a thousand pai sho games and the sacrifice of the last air bison.

 

It’s spring and the flowers are blooming, blooming from the water of the water people, the water of a thousand seal pelts and the sacrifice of a girl who just can’t let go.

 

_And she watches as he walks off into the sunset, Katara watches as Zuko leaves her behind, and she wishes that it was summertime last year all over again._

 

* * *

 

 

72\. forgiveness

 

“Well,” he said, almost sarcastically, “I am very sorry that I corrupted the way you fight. From now on I’ll be sure to fight where you can’t see me. Like behind a tree.”  
  
Katara knew how ridiculous this argument was, but she loved annoying the impatient Fire Prince. “That’s the only apology I get?”  
  
He turned around quickly and brought his mouth down upon hers, and she moaned almost unintentionally and he smirked into the kiss before slowly pulling away and smiling at the hazed waterbender.  
  
She stood for a minute, finger on her chin tapping, thinking. “That’s a good enough apology,” she conceded. “Now, what’s for dinner?”

 

* * *

 

 

73\. blame

 

“Hey, Katara!” She heard someone yell from the right. She turned around and blue eyes scanned the crowd, and her mouth turned upwards in a smile when she saw familiar faces. Katara walked towards them, shutting her locker quickly and putting her book bag over her shoulder.

 

“Hey, guys,” she greeted them warmly, still smiling. On the left was her brother, Sokka, wearing blue (yet again) and his hair pulled back in a short (but manly, according to him) ponytail. Zuko was on the right, wearing red – of course, the exact opposite of her brother, his golden eyes narrowed at her brother. Apparently they were on the outs, like always.

 

And in the middle was Aang, who was so much shorter than the rest of them even though he was only a year younger than the girl of the group. He was in the same grade as Katara, though, since he had skipped a grade. He smiled up at Katara, ignoring the two older boys glaring at each other right over his head. After a pregnant moment of silence, he noticed the tension and looked between the two boys on either side of him, checked his watch, and told Katara he had first period to get to. She nodded, her smile fading slightly.

 

“Sokka,” she reprimanded, “You were supposed to give me a ride to school this morning! I had to mooch off of Mai.” Katara shook her head slowly, remembering the awkward car ride here.

 

Sokka grunted in response and said tersely, “I had… something come up.” While Zuko asked, curious and surprised, “You got a ride from Mai?”

 

“Yeah, well, she is our neighbor and she’s not as bad as she seems.” Then she looked to Sokka and had the sudden urge to shake her finger at him like a bad puppy, but then a thought came to mind. “Oh, so you and Suki must have been… getting it on?” She smiled as Zuko suppressed his laughter.

 

“Something like that,” Sokka said, not even blushing. _That’s strange,_ Katara thought.

 

“Well, come on you guys,” she said, standing in between the two of them and linking their arms with hers, “We don’t want to be late for Biology again.” Katara didn’t miss the wince that Sokka made when she grabbed his arm. Eyes narrowing, she grabbed his arm quickly and rolled up his sleeve. She gasped as she saw the whole entire arm was covered in bruises. “You got into a fight again?” She groaned. Looking over at Zuko – he was smiling smugly. That bastard!

 

“You two got into a fight?” Neither of them answered, but Sokka at least had the decency to look ashamed. Zuko was still smirking.

As Sokka stalked off to go to first hour, Zuko leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You owe me five bucks.” She giggled and from somewhere down the hall she heard Sokka yell something about not touching his baby sister. Her giggle turned into full laughter then. She dragged Zuko down the hall.

 

“We are going to talk about this fight later, don’t you forget.”

 

He just smirked.

 

\---

 

Later, Katara was in the bathroom, when she heard two girls giggling outside of her stall. She perked her ears up to listen.

 

“I know, they make such a cute couple!”

 

“I heard that he’s going to make it official soon!”

 

They all squealed. Confused, Katara moved to walk out, ready to ask who it was they were talking about, when one of the girls said, in a very bored-sounding voice, “C’mon you guys. Sure, we know that Katara and Zuko have the hots for each other – I mean, we all heard. But don’t we have anything better to gossip about?”

 

Katara’s hand froze on the handle and her eyes widened. _Oh my god._

 

\---

 

She rushed into the almost empty classroom, breathing heavily, eyes wild, and heart beating a mile a minute. “Zuko, I swear I did _not_ start the rumors that are going around!”

 

Zuko put down the book he was reading, and glanced at the crazy girl standing in front of him. She watched, leaning against the doorway, as he came over and grasped her shoulders firmly.

 

“What rumors?” She stared at him, mouth hanging open.

 

“You mean you haven’t heard yet?” Katara asked him, and he shook his head. Zuko sat down down in his chair and gestured for her to sit across from him, and she did.

 

“Explain,” he commanded. And again, she did.

 

When she was done, he looked dazed. Almost shocked, but not exactly. And then his eyes narrowed. _Uh oh…_ He’s pissed. “Who the hell did this?”

 

For a second, Katara was hurt: did he think it was disgusting to go out with her? Suddenly, she was a bit angry too. Her mouth opened and she was about to retort when the door slammed open and a very familiar voice shouted out to the both of them.

 

“What did I tell you about not touching my baby sister!?”

 

 

\---

 

“… And then, Toph, Sokka burst in on the two of us. It was embarrassing, because he was just accusing us left and right. He even went so far to ask if we ‘used protection’. Oh my god, I thought I was going to faint from embarrassment.” To the right of Katara sat Toph, the blind girl laughing.

 

“But we finally got him to settle down and explained it to him, but I swear he still suspects us. And then he left. And then…” Katara trailed off, a light blush settling comfortably on her cheeks.

 

Toph prodded at her. “And then?”

 

“Zuko asked me on a date.”

 

Toph’s laughter continued.

 

“Toph? Toph? What’s so funny?”

 

She just waved her hand at the blue-eyed girl. _I never knew that me starting one rumor would end up with so much fun._

 

* * *

 

 

81\. ashes

 

_Maybe when I wake up there will be something better for me – a child growing inside me, and a hope that the father is still alive._

The sky is opening up and rain is falling down onto the battlefield between the worlds, between fire and water, and air and earth. Maybe one day there will be a time when I will understand but I still feel as if I am a young girl trying to fit a square into a circle.

 

It’s all gone now, everything we’ve worked for. So many people dead, I think wonderingly, so many people lost. And for what? For what we call freedom? Or is it really freedom at all.

 

The ground is wet but I sit on it anyways, wanting to pretend that the person approaching me from behind isn’t who I think it is. Through my fingers I can feel ashes, the ashes of life and the rebirth of a flying phoenix. Ashes of death and the ashes of burning people.

 

“Katara,” he asks, “are you all right?”

 

_Maybe when I fall asleep there won’t be anything at all._

 


End file.
